


Hawke gets a clue

by Tiili97



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Accidental secret relationship, Fluff, Genderless Hawke, Hawke isn't very perceptive, M/M, Wicked Grace night, otherwise fluffy as a bunny, teeny bit of angst if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 17:14:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5793127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiili97/pseuds/Tiili97
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Revelations during a night of Wicked Grace. Hawke doesn't know what's going on, but it seems everyone else does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hawke gets a clue

“Wait” Hawke blinks, a spoonful of mystery stew halfway to their mouth. It’s dripping on the table. “Hawke, your food.” Aveline cuts in, not even looking up from her cards with a voice like she’s done this a thousand times before. Hawke hurriedly stuffs the spoon into their mouth, eyes still wide and with a finger in the air to show that they’re not done talking yet. Most of the table is ignoring them – Varric busy dealing out cards, Isabela with hiding them in her boots. Hawke swallows urgently, waving their hand to draw attention. “Anders, Fenris – “ the two look up from their cards, “are you _together?”_ The entire room goes quiet.  
Anders snorts. “You’re kidding, right?” Hawke almost relaxes before he continues, “you can’t honestly have missed that.” He nudges Fenris with his shoulder, who just chuffs and looks at the healer with fondness before kissing his cheek and returning to his cards. Anders looks at Hawke again, small smile falling at their confused look. “Maker, you’re not kidding, are you?” Hawke just shakes their head. Another moment of silence – and then Fenris gives a disbelieving chuckle. A second later, Isabela follows, and soon the entire room is cackling while Hawke looks around in increasing distress.

Once the laughter dies down, they explain – though not without a lot of eyerolling and fond exasperation.  
Yes, they were living together. (“Hawke, I’ve been walking to Hightown instead of Darktown for months.” “I’m always drunk when we leave!” _”I wave to you in the mornings.”_ “… I’m hungover a lot.”)  
Yes, they had been a thing since after the deep roads. (“He had barely survived the deep. I… realized I would not want him harmed while he recovered.” “Yeah sure, Broody. I saw you sneak him your food even before Bartrand fucked us over.” “Quiet, dwarf.”)  
Yes, they had hidden it at first. (“I mean… it wasn’t really a _thingy_ thing until after I almost…” “That was no fault of yours, _amatus.”_ “I’m a healer. I should at least be able to help someone I love.” “You did.”)  
Yes, Hawke was the last to find out. (“Even Merrill?” “She was the one who came by with food to the clinic after that battle. Said she found them _cuddling._ The sweet thing just left the basket and sneaked out again.” “Isabela dear, your crush is showing.”)  
By the time the story ends, several more tankards have been emptied to help it along, Hawke grabs both of them in a hug. “I’m sorry! You’re both obvo… obivo… _clearly_ deeply in love.” As their eyes grow misty, their grip hardens, lifting the couple a few inches off the floor. “Sorry! I’m an awful friend.” “There there Hawke, it’s quite alright. Now do you mind letting us go? Crushed ribs are awfully hard to heal.”

Much later, when even the last of the stragglers has stumbled out from the Hanged man, Fenris and Anders walk home – to what had really become _their_ home, strange as it was.  
There was a lot of things they hadn’t told Hawke, of course. Those first few weeks, months, _years_ where their relationship hadn’t been much except violence and lust. How much they had fought, both each other and themselves. They hadn’t mentioned the fights and snarls and cutting flashes of blue light – but also good things were kept private. The first time they had shared a bottle of wine at Fenris’ mansion, both wary and stilted but needing the contact, the noise.  
The first time Fenris had stumbled through the door of the clinic in the middle of the night, all wild eyes and brimming with words he knew only one who could understand.  
The uncountable times Anders had come looking for a fight, a fuck, anything to take the edge of the pressure of a hundred lives and voices, and instead found himself venting his worries and fears.  
They had fought for this, to overcome their own urge to flee and to _talk_ instead of letting the silences fill up the empty space. Most couples found they had to talk less and less the closer they got; Fenris and Anders just talked more.  
“I can’t believe Hawke didn’t know. We haven’t been _that subtle.”_ Anders bursts out. Fenris nods his agreement, but let Anders finish his train of thought. “I mean, honestly. They live _right there._ Not to mention all the missions – oh maker, do you think there’s someone else who doesn’t know? This is a serious possibility, wow. Can you think of anyone?” “Well, it might have slipped the Knight-captain’s notice. Would you like to go remind him?” The response has Anders cackling at the memory. “Oh, the look on his face… it will bring me through many rainy days. Still can’t believe you did that.” Fenris hums in response, eyes warm. “He insulted you. If I was not allowed to rip his heart out, I would at least prove that his views are not shared by everyone.” Anders’ eyes softened at the words. “Still. You could have gotten in trouble. Can still get in trouble. I’m not… safe.” The insecurity in Anders’ voice is clear. Fenris immediately pulls them to a stop, Anders looking up at him with a mix of worry and curiosity. “What was it you said… If I would tell the world, the knight-commander, that I love you and will stand beside you?” He grabs Anders’ hand, bringing it up to his lips to place a chaste peck on it. “I am yours, _amatus._ I would have the whole world know it.”

**Author's Note:**

> I like cursive. Fight me. Alternatively, leave comments. They warm a writer's heart.


End file.
